The Shadows: They're Growing
by Elowan Bree
Summary: "Amelia Pond was eighteen years old when the world ended...The Doctor was seven million and three light years away from Earth when the Vashta Nerada arrived." AU; The tenth Doctor runs to Earth's rescue, where he comes in contact with a later-in-life companion, Amelia Pond. POV: Amy and the Doctor.


**The Shadows...They're Growing**

by Elowan Bree

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**~Chapter One~**

* * *

Amelia Pond was eighteen years old when the world ended.

It was a dull Saturday morning in England, thick clouds hanging low in the sky. Amelia hugged her knees to her chest as she sat in the shower, waiting.

The Doctor was seven million and three light years away from Earth when the Vashta Nerada arrived.

"John Smith, Chief Armour Inspector." He flashed his psychic paper at the Sontaran guard, stepping towards the arsenal vault.

"Halt," grunted the sentry, raising a steel-clad fist. "We do not tolerate intruders. Exit the building immediately." The Doctor frowned at his fake ID.

_It's too dark. The shadows...they're growing._

"We do not tolerate intruders," repeated the Sontaran, reaching for his weapon.

"My mistake, wrong planet. Gotta dash." Stuffing the paper into his overcoat, the Doctor hurried to the Disinfecting Chamber, where he found his beloved blue box, waiting.

* * *

"Amy? Amy, pick up the phone. It's me, Mel. If you don't get your sorry Scottish ass down here in five minutes, we're coming for you. Don't think I'm kidding, we've been waiting ages for you, you stinking-"

Amy hung up the machine with a punch, vigorously dragging a comb through her hair. On her bed lay the skirt she had picked out, crumpled in a heap with her red blouse. She gave the clothes a sniff, shrugged, and yanked them on over her tights.

"Where on earth..." she muttered to herself, rummaging through drawers and purses. From the mess, the redhead managed to produce a cell phone and a ten pound note, hissing as the phone began to vibrate.

"I'm on my way," she barked into the wrong end, not waiting for a response before flying out the back door.

Amelia pulled up in front of Mel's precisely one hour late, greeted by a disgruntled Rory, sitting alone on the front step.

"You came," he said, peering up from under his raincoat.

"Yeah, what'd you think, I forgot?" Stumbling slightly, the boy stood to follow Amy inside. Mel grinned evilly, suitcase in hand.

"Shouldn't've come so late, Am. We were starting to worry."

"What've you got?" Amy replied, ignoring her best friend's threat.

"Tickets," Rory piped up. She looked at him exasperatedly.

"Tickets to...?"

"The eleven o'clock train. We're going to London, Pond!" Mel sprang up from her seat, bouncing slightly.

"You're kidding," she exclaimed, looking towards Rory for affirmation.

He held the door, and they filed outside. "Happy birthday. Get in the car."

Mel twiddled impatiently as Rory drove to the station, cursing at every stop light. Never having been to London before, Amy's mind spun with anxiety.

Would the London Eye be open? She hoped so. It wasn't every day you came of age, and what better way was there to celebrate than to view her whole new kingdom of possibilities from the biggest Ferris Wheel on earth?

All the doors that had opened...London held surprises for Amy, though perhaps slightly different from what she was expecting.

* * *

The interior of the TARDIS was mercifully warm. The Doctor had never liked the Sontaran army bases: ever since they discovered recyclable air regulation, all of their establishments were cold to the point of discomfort. He blew on his hands as he worked, feverishly flipping switches and pulling levers.

"Why is it always London?" he growled, giving the final knob a twist. The ship burst to life with a low rumble. The Doctor, by all appearances, was deeply annoyed by his interruption. He had been moments away from penetrating the defenses and catching a glimpse at the blue matter the Sontaran had been harvesting. Though, to be perfectly honest, he was glad of the distraction. New interstellar technology could only do so much to hold his interest.

The Doctor had always been fond of changing plans; he got off on instability and change. Though today was entirely different: The Doctor had always had someone with which he could share the rush. If there was one thing every companion had, it was an unquenchable thirst for trouble. He wasn't ready to be on his own. But how could he ever open himself up to another being again? Mistakes were mistakes, but the Doctor had topped himself this time.

Rose was gone forever. There was no breaching the gap between the universes. How he had wished to taste the tears on her cheeks; kiss them away and tell her not to cry. She was still beautiful, even when her eyes were swollen and red.

But he couldn't bare to think about her. The only thing to do was take his own advice, and run.

What to him had been yesterday was thousands of years in the future to the Sontaran. He had wrenched himself away from any memory of his beloved Rose, anything that would at all remind him of her blonde hair, her coy smile...

He shook himself. No. He had promised not to do this to himself.

"Focus." He put a hand on the dial to steady it, and the TARDIS ground to a halt. Silence.

Expecting the worst, the Doctor swung the door open, discovering that the TARDIS was conveniently hidden behind a cluster of bushes. Not even a step past the threshold, he staggered back in surprise.

Visible between the leaves, London lay before him, a sprawling metropolis, packed with vendors and buildings whose tops disappeared into the fog. Bustling about, throngs of tourists and natives called to each other about dinner, or the groceries, or what was on the telly last night.

This city had always been just another place to save, just another hotspot for trouble. It seemed to him like any other level two planet; at least, during the twenty-first century, it did. But it had all changed.

Every corner, every sidewalk, every lady calling to her spouse reminded him of Rose. He felt a stabbing pain in his chest, as if a frigid hole had opened, leaving a window where his hearts should have been.

"Remi, did you leave the oven on?" asked a concerned father. With a jolt, The Doctor remembered all the times he had cooked for Rose, a feat he would have never performed for anyone else. She had so loved his food; always the main dish of wherever they had landed. It had become a sort of contest: the Doctor would try his hardest to create the most vile of combinations, in hopes that he would finally churn her stomach. Rose relentlessly enjoyed every bite. Once, on Grevaldia, he had prepared a platter of boiled wing-fish eyes, but to no avail. She smacked her lips and grinned at him, teeth flossed with little bits of pupil.

"Get your papers! Right 'ere!" yelled a boy on the curb. On the occasion where they landed on a Sunday, the most uneventful of days, Rose and the Doctor would sit against the console of the TARDIS, reading old London papers. It had helped her to miss home a little less. Home. Rose was always homesick.

Guilt spread through the Doctor. Why had he taken Rose in the first place? He knew the dangers; he always had. None of this would have happened, if not for his stupid, selfish choice.

Yet, there was something about the girl with the crooked grin that had captivated him. How could he have passed her up?

And why had he come here, of all places? Wasn't it just this that he had been trying to avoid? Everywhere around him, images of his companion pulsed and undulated, lining the streets and the alleys. He allowed himself a moment of despair.

But that wasn't why he had come. The Doctor had been called to Earth for a reason, and the Doctor always came.

* * *

Amy was the first off the train when it pulled into the station. She glanced behind her as Rory, followed by Mel, piled onto the platform, each smiling hugely.

"King's Cross," marveled Mel, staring in wonder at the high vaulted ceilings. "And to think, we thought _our_ station was crowded." Mel had a point. The three of them seemed to be swimming in travelers of all shapes, sizes, and ethnicities. Rory pushed past a group of chattery Russians, who seemed to be discussing the state of their socks in broken English. He gestured at the girls, and they shoved through after him.

The place echoed spasmodically as the loud speaker called passengers to their allotted gates. All around them, couples lugged their bags and children begged their parents for ice cream; Amy even noticed what looked like a leashed rodent, escorted by its equally eccentric owner.

She followed him with her eyes for a moment, before focusing her attention on a befuddled family, whose daughter seemed to be the only one with any idea of their whereabouts. Tugging on her parents' arms, she dragged them through a secluded archway, casting four long shadows on the waxed floor.

Amy did a double take. Four shadows? There were only three people standing there. She squinted in their direction, but the family was gone.

Through the cacophony, nobody heard as their bones clattered to the floor.

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-AUTHOR'S NOTE-

Hello! So this is my very first chapter of my very first story here on FanFiction, and I'm curious as to what you all thought. I'm completely open to criticism. I'm unsure if I should continue the story, so just let me know what you liked (or disliked) in a review. Thanks for your support, all!


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